Anchors Aweigh
by The Cool Kat
Summary: After years of watching each others' backs and nursing their mutual crushes, Tintin finally bucks up the nerve to make a move with Captain Haddock and take their friendship to the next level, discovering quite a few surprises along the way. Slash. Rated M.


_**Anchors Aweigh:**_

On one warm, muggy, scenic evening in Brazil, two dusty, scuffed up, disheveled men checked into their hotel room with their faithful canine companion, Snowy, finally having the time and space to relax and let their guard down for the first time in days. They were both looking a little worse for wear after the latest gauntlet of close calls and near-death experiences they had overcome for the last few days, fighting gangsters, but both of them were in high spirits and felt pretty satisfied at the moment.

First there was Tintin, a plucky, courageous, redheaded Belgian reporter, who rarely traveled anywhere without his favorite brown trenchcoat, and was easily recognizable by the unique, fluffy tuft of hair on top of his head. Then there was Captain Haddock, a tall, muscular, grizzled Scottish mariner, clad in a thick blue jumper, black trousers, an equally black jacket, and his signature captain's hat, displaying his former rank.

The two men were fairly famous adventurers who traveled from country to country, solving conspiracies, finding lost treasures, helping out their friends and catching criminals. People they encountered who had never heard of the duo often assumed, because the Captain was the older of the two men, that Haddock was the one who called the shots, mentoring his younger companion, when, in actuality, it was the other way around.

Tintin was the mad daredevil who had taken an interest in solving mysteries when he was just a teen, slowly working his way up through the ranks at his local paper until he started branching out, gaining a lot of experience in the globe-trekking business. Tintin's curiosity had quite a habit of landing him into trouble, so he learned how to maintain a keen eye, trust his instincts and think on his feet at a moment's notice to survive his dangerous occupation. Captain Haddock was a pretty stout and tough man, and he had his own area of expertise, but when it came to crime-solving, he more often than not followed Tintin's lead. On the road, the brawny Scotsman provided him with some muscle and some back-up beyond his other best friend, Snowy - the courageous little white terrier who had been protecting Tintin's back long before the Captain became part of their circle..

On this particular occasion, the two men had just finished capturing the highest ranking members of a drug smuggling ring, stopping the men from fleeing the country by plane with their loot. Snowy, in particular, had pushed himself pretty hard to catch the crooks (earning plenty of praise from his master) and the fierce little dog was feeling pretty tuckered out, yawning as he set foot back into their temporary pad. Tintin gave his canine friend a good rub between the ears, to show his gratitude and affection towards his oldest friend, before the dog padded off to lie down and take a nap somewhere else in their living space. The two men however still felt pretty buzzed and still had plenty of energy, as Tintin set his trenchcoat aside on a nearby chair and let a stack of papers rest on the adjacent desk. Captain Haddock deposited his satchel on the couch, filled with things that had kept them alive for the past week.

"Well, that's another adventure done and dusted", he declared rather proudly, as he turned to face his younger friend. "I can't wait to see what you write about this one, lad", he stated. The Captain had been reading Tintin's articles in the paper for quite some time now, and the reporter had quite a way with words - excellent prose, after years of practice. "You've got a lot to talk about this week", the Captain reckoned.

Once he was done getting all his papers in order, information the Thompsons would need to share with the local authorities, Tintin turned back towards his older, brawnier companion, eyeing him up and down. "That _was_ a close one, Captain. For a moment, when you went over that cliff, I thought... I might have lost you", Tintin admitted, flinching a bit at that unpleasant, frightening memory.

Haddock smiled, the edge of his lip curling upwards among his bristly, black beard. The mariner clasped his hands behind his back, nonchalantly strolled up to his Belgian friend, and before Tintin knew it, Haddock had rested one of his big, rough hands on top of his head, ruffling his hair affectionately to make the reporter laugh a bit and loosen up.

"You ought to know by now, laddie, I'm a lot harder to kill than that. You don't survive for years at sea without being tough as iron, inside and out", Haddock reassured him, giving one of his stout, muscular arms a good flexing to prove his point. He was also flirting with the reporter, laying the old sea dog charm on to woo the landlubber, now that he could do so freely. "And that was before I met you, boy. You're on a whole other level entirely when it comes to shaping a man up", Haddock smirked, as he finished noogying the lad.

Tintin smiled fondly and shook his head a bit at the sailor's macho bravado - as always, the scruffy sea dog was a brash, brawny tough guy while also being quite goofy and chummy, especially when he was in good humor - before he stepped forward, closed the gap between them and wrapped his arms around the Scotsman's back, pulling him in for a good bear hug. The Captain was a bit surprised by the gesture, but he hardly had any problems with it, chuckling at the boy's sappiness as some part of his gut grew warm. After a moment, the burly mariner raised his own strong, strapping arms around the reporter's back, embraced him against his firm, barrel chest, and let the younger man's head rest under his chin, showing him a bit of manly love back.

"Yer feeling mighty affectionate today, lad", Haddock noted, a tad teasingly, since this wasn't the first time Tintin had given him a good squeeze over the last twenty-four hours.

"Maybe I am. I'm just glad this case is over", Tintin conceded. "And to be honest, I've always kind of enjoyed hugging you", Tintin thoughtfully admitted, a moment later, letting his head rest on Haddock's chest on top of his blue, woolen jersey. From the previous hugs they had shared over the last few years, Tintin had noticed that Haddock's jumper and his black jacket always smelled like a pleasant combo of salty seawater, whiskey, tobacco and a hint of leather.

Haddock chuckled. "I noticed. If the stiff one you've got growing in yer pants wasn't a giveaway, that kiss sure as hell was. All of them", Haddock figured, recounting a fun memory from earlier that morning, teasing the lad goodnaturedly.

Tintin's cheeks flushed a bit with warmth, as he recalled how he had spontaneously kissed his best friend earlier. He had just pulled the Scotsman up from over the edge of the cliff - it had just sank in how close he had once again come to losing the man he loved because of some random, faceless, greedy thug - and in the heat of the moment, he had acted rashly and laid one on the sailor. Naturally, the Captain was stunned for a few moments. But to his surprise, the rugged sea dog surged forward and wound up kissing him back eagerly, vigorously for several rounds, squeezing him in his arms and enjoying every bit of it until they pulled apart. Once they had gotten their wits about them, they had both decided to talk about it later, when they didn't have their hands full - i.e. right here, right now.

Tintin laughed a little, shaking off whatever bit of embarrassment he might have felt for his impulsive actions. "To be fair, Captain. I'm pretty sure you kissed me the third time - and the fourth time", he reminded the seaman.

"And I don't regret a single bit of it", Haddock informed him with a self-satisfied grin, beaming away among his bushy, black whiskers. His already gruff, Scottish cadence grew deeper, huskier in the back of his throat, as he started to get turned on from the hug he was sharing with the lad, and his grip on the man in his arms grew a bit tighter. "Yer a mighty fine kisser, boy", Haddock declared.

"Really?", Tintin asked, perking right up at the compliment.

"Aye. You caught me off guard, kissed the hell out of me, and got me straining against my pants in under a minute. I wouldn't mind going for another round, a fifth one", Haddock suggested flirtatiously, giving the lad another good squeeze, growing harder below the belt as a sizable, stiff bulge started to form in his black pants. He was sure Tintin could feel how happy he was at the moment, the same way he could feel the lad's growing arousal.

"Go right ahead, Captain", Tintin replied, meeting the man's proposal head on. Tintin was still surprised all of this was happening - the two of them flirting with each other freely and easily, egging each other on - but he was enjoying it. He didn't want it to stop any time soon, and he was curious to see how far it would go.

Captain Haddock was happy to oblige, craning downwards to bury his nose, his lips and his bushy black beard in the lad's neck. Once he was free to roam around, the rough sailor started pecking the lad's cheeks, his jawbone, and his open neck with firm, wet, loving kisses; even biting down in one place to give the lad a good hickey. He found the man's soft, sensitive skin to be every bit as rosy and inviting as he expected it to be, as he littered it with kisses everywhere he could reach.

Tintin moaned quietly, melting like butter in the seaman's arms, leaning into his taut, intimate embrace, since the sailor's grip on him wasn't going to let up anytime soon while he left his mark on the lad. In response to the titillating stimulation, Tintin ran his own hands up and down Haddock's broad back, grabbing the material of his clothes, rubbing circles and ovals in his jersey and his jacket so he could make the sailor feel good in return. Sure enough, the Scotsman's cock was straining the front of his trousers, longing for freedom, pulsing with warm blood, since he was starting to get rock hard at that point.

After a while, as Haddock started to get further and further into his ministrations, and Tintin started to get lost in his throes of passion, the reporter decided to go one step further and lower his hands down Captain Haddock's back - down towards his belt buckle and his nether regions. As Haddock bit down on Tintin's neck lightly, teasing him, leaving another good hickey, Tintin bucked forward with a laugh and the reporter's member jumped a bit in his boxers in approval. Encouraged by that move, and very horny at that point, Tinin let his hands wander even further down, exploring, until finally both of his palms rested on Haddock's firm, hard, rather sexy backside. Tintin rubbed a circle around Haddock's arse, reveling in doing what he had fantasized about for quite a while. He could feel the sailor's two, firm cheeks between the rough, weather-worn fabric of his pants, and after a moment, he gave the Scotsman's bum a good pat, grinning away all the while.

The Captain paused. He had been a bit puzzled up until then about what the reporter was doing, but now he understood. "Are you grabbing my arse?", he grunted, amused by how the younger man was groping him.

The spell broken a bit, Tintin snapped to attention. "If you want me to stop, I'll do it, in an instant", Tintin informed him, a bit worried that he had gone too far too quickly.

"It's a yes or no question, Tintin. Are you grabbing my arse?", Haddock pressed, more firmly.

"Yeah", Tintin confessed plainly.

"Are you enjoying it?", Haddock asked gruffly, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, very much so", Tintin answered honestly.

"Then keep on doing what yer doing then", Haddock decided resolutely, burying his bushy bearded chin back in the crevice between Tintin's head and his collar, getting right back to smooching up the lad's neck.

"Really?", Tintin said, a bit surprised, but he had no problem acquiescing and resumed groping the sailor's backside. Going one step further than before, Tintin started to dig his fingers into the coarse fabric, kneading Haddock's arse, rolling his bum around through his pants, grabbing clumps of each cheek with each hand.

Haddock groaned, closing his eyes, as his cock jumped around in his pants - plenty of blood flowed down to his crotch, making his manhood grow even harder. His stiff, throbbing member was rubbing up against his boxers and his trousers, creating some wonderful friction below the belt, as the reporter turned him on more and more.

"Lad, if you're going to start feeling up an old sea dog and having yer wicked way with him, don't go leaving a man with blue balls. It ain't right", Haddock cheekily remarked, explaining himself while also pretending to chide the reporter.

Tintin grinned mischievously, the edge of his lip curling upwards. "So you're enjoying this, then?", Tintin probed, looking to get some of his own back when it came to being cheeky and winding up the big, gruff sailor.

Haddock snorted. "Does this answer your question, boy?", the seaman retorted, before he rolled his hips, grinding his bulging crotch into Tintin's groin, letting the Belgian feel the warm, hard, stiff rod he had jutting away between his legs. "Couldn't enjoy it more if I tried", Haddock chuckled, giving him some encouragement.

Tintin enjoyed that, quite a bit, and the lad's brow crinkled in thought for a moment, as he rubbed away on Haddock's backside, gripping his flesh a bit more, before he changed tactics. "Well then, maybe I could help you out there, Captain", Tintin decided, pulling his arms back to him and moving his hands around to the front of the burly Scotsman.

"Eh?", Haddock grunted, cocking a bushy eyebrow.

Tintin smirked. "You'll like this, Captain", he promised the sailor.

Now that he had the go-ahead, Tintin decided to escalate things even further when it came to feeling up his burly, sexy friend and turning him on. He rested his hands on the sailor's belt buckle, eyeing up the stiff, sizable bulge in his crotch - the thick, throbbing dick pulsing away in his black trousers, aching to be touched. With that in mind, Tintin took the plunge and moved one of his hands down to rest on Haddock's firm bulge, rubbing away the crotch on his trousers the same way he felt up the sailor's arse only a minute ago. Haddock was caught off guard by the boy's forwardness, but also incredibly pleased by it, as Tintin grinded down on his big dick through his pants. After half a minute of rubbing, Haddock instinctively bucked his groin in Tintin's palm, grinding his hot, aching crotch against his fingers.

"Shit, boy", the salty sailor cursed lowly and lustfully in approval. "That does feel mighty good. Keep at it", he informed the reporter, spurring him on.

Using his fingers now, Tintin grabbed ahold of Haddock's member through the fabric and dug in through his pants. He could feel the solid, distinctive outline of the man's cock and balls through the jeans, he traced it for a moment, before he started to squeeze down. After a moment, Tintin was clenching it, fisting it, rubbing it, and stroking it. Once he had a good grip on the sailor's lead pipe, Tintin set to work massaging it and rolling it around, stroking it with his palm and building up a good amount of friction there. Finally, he started tugging on it, jerking it around the way two men did when one of them was trying to get the other off. Tintin did everything he could think of to play with the man's hard-on freely and erotically, stimulating the heavily aroused sailor who was now completely at his mercy. Indulging every wanton thought in his head, Tintin groped and fondled the surly sea dog through his black trousers, manhandling his dick, causing waves of pleasure and heat to soar throughout his body, spreading outward from his groin.

"Shit, shit, _barnacles_", Haddock growled, swearing lowly again as he clenched his eyes shut and held his head back ever so slightly, leaning into the lad's touch as the reporter worked his magic on his balls and his cock. After a while, he started to hum to himself, a low, growly rumble in the back of his throat, as he got used to the lad's work.

Using his other hand, Tintin unbuttoned Haddock's pants, freeing up access to his groin, letting Tintin see the contents of his trousers that were usually hidden from the world - his white boxers, his wiry, black pubic hair poking out, and his straining, leaking cock that was creating a bulge in his pants. It was a beautiful sight, and one Tintin felt privileged to see as the man currently fooling around with the grizzled old sea dog. The reporter's eyes lit up, and he didn't want any time slipping a hand down into the open space, invading Haddock's boxers. The sailor stiffened up as Tintin's hand fled into his pants, grabbing his cock, undoubtedly so he could tease him even more, but the sailor still made no effort to put a stop to things - he wanted the boy to continue.

If Haddock's cock felt thick and proud and appealing through his trousers, it was so much better without a thin layer of fabric between them, rolling around through Tintin's fingers - all hot and veiny and stiff - as the reporter sized it up, stroking the tip end and fisting the base with the balls - caressing every part of the man's organ. Once he had gotten a grip on the sailor's member, Tintin started running his hand up and down along the pipe, building up a good amount of friction and momentum, squeezing in all the while. Tintin might not have been an expert when it came to wooing another man and bedding them, but he had had a few dates with his own rosy palms in the past and he knew how to jack off a hard cock. He was going to help his burly, Scottish friend find relief and unload the contents of his swollen, blue balls before the day was over. And considering how tense and rigid Haddock looked at the moment - rolling his hips heatedly with the lad's movements, thrusting into Tintin's hand with a mad grin on his sweaty face - Tintin guessed it wasn't going to take long.

"Yeah, like that, laddie! Just like that! Grip it in yer fingers!", Haddock coaxed him wantonly, bucking into Tintin's palm and embracing the reporter's sensual touches, while the young man still had his hand shoved down the sailor's pants in an obscene way. The Captain had to admit, Tintin sure knew how to treat an old sea dog.

Picking up speed, doing what the Captain asked, a good friction burn started to build up between Tintin's hand and the Captain's cock, pushing down on it, creating heat as well as energy. Tintin jerked it off faster and faster, grabbing it and caressing it and feeling the solid lump throb around between his fingers every time they fled from the tip end to the base - poking the slit and gripping the balls. The thick, veiny member pulsed and throbbed eagerly, insatiably, squirming around the sailor's tight, constricting boxers with Tintin's hand, as the reporter jerked it around beneath the seaman's belt.

As the lad kept hold of his vice grip on his dick and pumped it faster and faster still, groping him and fondling him with plenty of vigor and wanton abandon, Haddock could feel a familiar sort of pressure building up around his groin, deep inside his balls. His milky white seed had spent the last twenty minutes boiling, heating up in his testicles, and now it was about ready to erupt and spill over out of his cock. It was going to be pretty a big load, bigger than most of the ones he had produced in quite a while, so beyond a few more gruff moans of pleasure and a few more thrusts of his hips as he spurred the lad on, Haddock made no effort to warn the boy or do anything that would get him to stop. He wanted the release and needed it rather badly at that point; so he was going to see the lad's handjob all the way through, even if it meant a ruined pair of pants.

Eventually, Tintin gave Haddock one last, firm yank on his cock - squeezing his taut, rigid member between his fist, enjoyed the feeling of the heated, engorged flesh squishing beneath the skin - and that was exactly the sort of action the sailor needed to become undone.

Haddock swore loudly and grinded down on Tintin's hand as ropes of wiry, hot, white come started to spurt out of his dick - the man was finally free to bust his nut. Before long, he started to drench Tintin's fingers, spraying his hand. The Scotsman painted his boxers and his stern, hairy legs with his seed, shooting off in his trousers without a care in the world - letting out a colorful string of salty curses the way only he could as he finally found relief - blowing his load down his pants as he humped away, loving every minute of it. Before he was even halfway done, some of his warm, milky seed started to run down his leg, while the other half of it trickled through the front of his pants, leaving a dark stain there that could barely be seen because of the black fabric.

Tintin kept on pumping on his dick; he kept on jacking the squirming, heaving, rough seaman past his limits to help him bottom out, even as Haddock was already shooting off load after load. Finally, after a minute, the Captain's orgasm finally reached its end, and the sailor relaxed, leaning forward on Tintin a bit. The burly seaman let his limbs go slack while he panted heavily, sweat dripping down his forehead, the last bit of come oozing out of his dick that was finally starting to shrink down a bit in his pants.

Once he was certain the Scotsman was finished, Tintin slowly fished his hand out of the Captain's pants and raised it up so he could get a look at it, marveling at the creamy white semen that was dripping down his fingers - the Captain's life seed. His mission to show his friend a good time had been a complete success - not a bad outcome, considering it was his first time jerking off anyone other than himself. Tintin smiled a bit, proud of his handiwork, before he wiped his hands on the side of his pants, drying it. Once the Captain had caught his breath, the burly sailor stood up straight, eyeing up the frisky young reporter with an expression that was horny, satiated, and eager, all at once. Tintin lifted his head and met his gaze, figuring there was something he ought to say to the mariner, as much as he enjoyed the last twenty minutes.

"Sorry about your trousers, Captain, I could have planned that better-", the lad started apologetically.

"Fuck them, boyo", the Captain cut him off, letting him know he had nothing to apologize for. "That felt great", the sailor commended, beaming with pride and a bit of lust.

Tintin laughed a little under his breath, pleasantly surprised, and was about to move back when Haddock suddenly grabbed his arm, lightly gripping his sleeve. Tintin raised a questioning eyebrow at his sailor, wondering what he was up to now.

"I think it's my turn now, laddie. If ya don't mind", the Captain propositioned, waggling his eyebrows in a very tempting way.

Tintin quickly caught on to what he meant and swallowed a small lump in his throat, his cock twitching in his boxers as he thought about the rough, burly seaman putting his big hands all over him. That would be fantastic. "By all means, Captain, go right ahead", Tintin replied, giving him his permission.

Rubbing his hands together decisively, Haddock chuckled and bent down on his legs, stooping down low enough so his face was level with Tintin's brown trousers. Tintin scrutinized him closely, tilting his head - he had a feeling the Captain's methods were going to be quite a bit different from his own.

"I hope you won't mind, boyo, but I kind of want to be a bit more… intimate about this, a bit more personal. I wanna see how ya taste. Chester always did use to say I suck a mean cock", the robust, Scottish seaman eagerly informed him, as he started to unzip Tintin's pants, clearing a path towards his boxers. Again, a bit more blood traveled down to Tintin's manhood, making it jump a bit below the belt, as Haddock decided to share that sexy bit of information with him.

"That, that would be fun", Tintin honestly replied, trying and failing to keep his horniness in check, a part of him wanting to squirm around as Haddock slipped his weathered hand into his pants.

A moment later, the Captain had fished out Tintin's member - it wasn't the biggest or most impressive cock out there, but it was certainly firm and respectable for a man Tintin's age (twenty-two, as of now). Haddock gave it a few, rough tugs, getting it nice and hard and stimulated, while he rolled his tongue around in his mouth, collecting a copious amount of warm saliva. Finally, he bent in closer and rolled his tongue around on Tintin's dick.

"_Oh crumbs_!", Tintin thought, a jolt of pleasure shooting through him, just barely managing to hold himself still as the Captain made contact. He had masturbated before, several times, but it felt nothing like that - and the Captain was just getting started. Haddock lapped the man's member from top to bottom, side to side, with his tongue - taking his time to savor the experience and tease the squirming lad it belonged to, who he kept steady by resting a bracing hand on his bum. The Captain smirked wolfishly, happy to hear the landlubber getting into it, whenever Tintin moaned softly and his cock jumped a bit in Haddock's hand. Finally, once the lad was all slicked up, the Captain was ready to take the plunge.

Just when Tintin thought he couldn't feel any better, just when he thought this whole experience couldn't get any more splendid or any more naughty simultaneously, Haddock took the boy's member inside his mouth and glomped down on it with his lips, swallowing it. Tintin bucked forward instinctively, he would have probably made the sailor gag on his cock if the man hadn't been expecting that reaction, or been so experienced with giving another man head.

The little tease Haddock had given Tintin earlier, to get him ready, was nothing compared to this. The Captain lapped his warm, rough tongue all over the most sensitive area of the lad's skin, soothing it, treasuring it, rolling it around through his wet mouth wherever he liked. He bobbed up and down on the lad's rigid pole, drenching it with saliva to keep it slick and malleable, sliding it deeper and deeper down his mouth into his throat.

At the base of his dick, Tintin could feel the rough, wiry bristles of Captain Haddock's bushy sea-dog beard rubbing up against his cock and balls, scratching them vigorously, creating friction that made the reporter feel heavenly. Tintin leaned his head back and rested one of his hands on Haddock's head, digging his hand into his captain's hat absentmindedly, to keep himself steady and keep the sailor locked onto his member.

Unable to resist, Haddock reached up and gave Tintin's nice, round bum a good pinch through his trousers, prompting the lad to buck forward into his mouth, sliding his cock in deeper, and the contented, lecherous sailor made sure to do the same with his other cheek. Pretty soon, once Tintin started moving with Haddock's actions, sliding into his rhythm, the reporter was heatedly fucking the sailor's mouth: pulling back his cock and thrusting it down the seaman's throat every twenty seconds, giving him plenty of time of lick it and lap it and tease it with each rotation.

After a few minutes of Haddock's ministrations, Tintin could feel the heat pooling around his balls, building within his groin, and he knew he was close. He gave his friend the heads-up, and the Scotsman only grunted affirmatively, still deep-throating the lad's member at the moment, bobbing on the journalist's lead pipe. He had no intention of pulling back, knowing how to swallow a good amount of semen safely from years of practice, and instead, he wanted to see the whole process through. He had staked his claim on the reporter, and now he wanted to feel redheaded laddie blow a good, warm load of come down into his belly.

After another minute of stepping up his game, sucking and blowing so hard he knocked the lad's socks off, the Captain got his wish. Tintin yelped and shuddered, giving one last desperate shove, as the floodgates of his cock opened. Taking his time, Haddock swallowed down load after load of Tintin's salty, bittersweet seed, tilting his head back and gulping it down between spurts so it wouldn't fall back out of his mouth, guzzling it down eagerly with a satisfied smirk. Tintin had built up a good amount of come that would line the insides of Haddock's throat and his belly for the rest of the night.

Finally, when he came to a stop and emptied himself, Tintin breathed heavily, trying to steady himself as his heartbeat slowed. He had never experienced an orgasm quite that strong before: he loved it, but he would also need a moment to process it.

In the meantime, Haddock opened his mouth and relinquished his grip on Tintin's cock with a soft, wet pop, letting the man's slowly softening member slip out of his mouth. Despite his efforts to guzzle it all down, a bit of milky white seed still trickled out of his mouth, standing out a lot compared to his black, bushy sea dog beard, but the sailor hardly minded.

Haddock chuckled lowly, heartily, as he studied his younger friend and noted how blown away the reporter was at the moment. It wasn't often that the Captain got to see Tintin look a bit shell-shocked, let alone being the source of that pleasant surprise. He must have done his job well of wooing the landlubber. The burly sailor stood up to his full height again and straightened out his back. "So, how do ya feel, boy?", he questioned with a wide, playful grin.

Meeting the Captain's eyes, Tintin grinned back, feeling more than a bit euphoric about how he was living out his dream. "I feel... fantastic", he answered honestly, before he stepped forward and embraced the burly Scotsman again, throwing his arms about his barrel chest and his broad back to pull the seaman close to him.

The Captain chortled and lightly rubbed circles in Tintin's back, wrapping his own bracing, bearish arms around the boy, returning the lad's sappy gesture without any qualms. There weren't many men who got to see Captain Haddock's softer side, but Tintin, his best friend, certainly had a spot on the list. "Oh yeah, I could definitely get used to this", the sea dog remarked, referring to the new, touchy-feely Tintin.

**((()-()))**

Sometime later, Tintin fiddled with the sleeves of Captain Haddock's black jacket, helping the Scotsman shrug it off and toss aside his first bit of clothing, so the two men could get buck-naked faster.

"Captain, I have something I want to tell you… Do you promise not to judge?", Tintin broached, opening himself up to brand new territory, now that they had already crossed a few lines.

"Lad, with what we're doing right now, I don't have any room to. We're both proud buggerers here, two bleeding heart poofs", the sailor retorted coarsely yet lightheartedly, letting the boy know he was all ears.

Tintin smiled, a bit of the leftover tension and unease that had been pooling in his stomach evaporated further. "Valid point. Perhaps a better request would be: don't let it go to your head", the reporter decided.

"Ah, sorry, laddie, I can't promise ya that. You know how I am", Haddock teasingly warned him, resting one of his big, meaty palms on the boy's shoulder with a smug, shit-eating grin.

Tintin rolled his eyes at his ridiculous friend, who seemed to be in a good mood that day. But at least he was being honest, he supposed - the Captain could be a pretty proud man.

"Alright then", Tintin replied, deciding to just man up and bite the bullet. "Captain, I think you're a very handsome man, damnably so, and a very brave one. I've wanted to do something like this with you for a while, since we first started to become really good friends", Tintin confessed, getting all the details of his crush off his chest.

"Thundering typhoons", the Captain reacted quietly, a bit surprised by that admission.

"I mean, at first I thought you were just a troublesome drunkard, but you've put in the work to clean yourself up since then. You've helped me out, and helped Snowy out, loads of times. You're tough, and stern, and stubborn, and noble. You have plenty of sailors' tales, and you're a fun man to spend time with", Tintin declared, becoming bolder and more outspoken with his confession as he pushed onwards.

"Aye, lad?", Haddock questioned, cocking an eyebrow.

"Aye", Tintin replied affirmatively, unabashedly.

Tintin gestured for Haddock to lift his arms, and the reporter helped the sailor pull off his navy blue jumper next - revealing the hard, robust barrel chest he had; the black, wiry chest hair lining his torso (creating a nice fur rug there); and the small, black anchor tattoos he had etched onto his shoulders years ago. Taking a moment to study one of them curiously, Tintin ran one of his fingers along the lines. Of course, he would have an anchor tattoo on each of his shoulders - it was a pretty common motif with the Scotsman.

Captain Haddock had made a lot of mistakes over the years, he had his fair share of regrets (usually involving the bottle), but one thing he was very proud of was his decision to follow in his family's footsteps and become a sailor - spending his life at sea seeing new shores, working his backside off and gaining plenty of worldly experience with other hardy men. The salt in his veins was a part of his identity, and as much as the gruff man liked to deny it sometimes, there was a yearning in him, a bit of wanderlust that appreciated a good adventure, not unlike Tintin. He wouldn't have stuck with the lad as his sidekick for as long as he did if it wasn't true.

"I know what sailors get up to at sea. I figured there was a chance you would return my advances, but I had to buck up the nerve to go through with it first. If you had rejected me, that would have been… embarrassing. Really, painfully embarrassing", Tintin admitted, explaining his reasons for waiting so long until now to spring a kiss on his friend.

The Captain was shirtless now: proudly baring his rugged, defined muscles to woo the lad and show off the stern upper body he had gained from years of busting his back at sea. So the Captain helped Tintin pull off his jumper next, undressing his younger bedfellow for the evening. "You needn't have worried, lad. I've thought about bedding you a few times too", Haddock reassured him.

Tintin blinked. "You have, have you?", the reporter reacted questioningly.

"Oh yeah. Stubborn, pint-sized, ginger pipsqueak saves my arse and drags me halfway around the world? He punches out gangsters and shows off his nerves of steel every week, accomplishing more than most men do before he's even twenty-five? And he's got a nice, round bottom?", Haddock reckoned, listing off Tintin's best qualities before he let his eyes wander down to Tintin's bum again for a moment, teasing the reporter.

"You shouldn't sell yourself short, Tintin. You've got a lot going for ya, boy. And I've seen the way people look at you - both the laddies and the lassies", Haddock informed him, his gruff, husky Scottish brogue growing even thicker than usual with attraction and appreciation.

Tintin smiled at that, touched by his brawnier friend's words. "Then how come you never made a move?', he wondered curiously.

'I figured I was too old for ya, or you'd want a girl. How was I to know you'd be attracted to salty old sea dogs?", Haddock replied, grinning wolfishly as he ribbed the reporter, obviously not displeased by that discovery in the slightest.

Now that the Captain had brought it up, Tintin figured he ought to shed some light on that. "Well, I've been traveling for a while, Captain. Long enough to know that sweaty, brawny, hard-working men, who are more on the masculine side, are a turn-on for me. The ones who aren't trying to kill me, anyway", Tintin explained, and Haddock chuckled a bit at that, recalling all the rough, unshaved thugs they had faced together. "Besides, I like your accent", Tintin added thoughtfully as an aside.

Raising his eyebrows in silence, his expression perking up, Haddock made sure to file that knowledge away for future use. If the boy liked a good, thick Scottish brogue, the burly sailor could have a lot of fun with that, winding him up and getting him aroused when he had the reporter pinned underneath him in bed, fucking him into the mattress and making him feel incredible.

The seaman stepped forward and ruffled Tintin's hair affectionately, tousling his deep red locks while being mindful of the journalist's distinctive quiff. "Yer a cuter lad than I thought I would go for, Tintin. A twink and a lubber, but a smart one, and I love that about ya. Nowadays, I'd cut down an army with my fists for ya", Haddock declared, stating his own attraction for the boy, since they were both sharing. He had developed quite a soft spot for the wild, ginger daredevil that had become his closest companion over the last few years, and it felt good to finally get those feelings out into the open.

"So, we could have been doing this months ago, or a year ago?", Tintin questioned, now that he knew they had both been stifling down their infatuations.

"Nah, probably not at the start. I might have wanted to bed ya or shown ya a good time, but I didn't want to be a burden on you then", Haddock figured, recalling the man he used to be a few years ago, who still had to pull his whole life together.

"Well, I can safely say you're not a burden, Captain. You're one of my best friends", Tintin stated firmly.

"Maybe more than a friend now, eh?", Haddock reckoned, grinning mischievously.

"Definitely", Tintin answered back, meeting his cheeky expression with one of his own.

The two men paused, gazing at each other fondly and deeply - looking into each other's eyes like they were hoping to size up the warm, good-hearted souls that laid there, everything that made them special and unique - before they moved in to close the gap between them. The Captain bent down to claim the Belgian reporter's lips, and Tintin bent forward, leaning into the embrace, so the two men could share their fifth kiss. They melded mouths passionately, they slipped in tongues and swapped spit in-between gentle moans and quiet mumbles of approval, while Haddock's coarse beard scratched away at Tintin's chin lightly and affectionately.

Since they were both shirtless now, wearing only their trousers, the two men wound up rubbing their bare chests together while they hugged each other. The rugged mat of black chest hair lining Captain Haddock's brawny, robust torso scratched Tintin's considerably thinner, paler body in a way that was not at all unpleasant. Tintin demonstrated that by how he arched into Haddock's hold and smiled against his lips while he was his eyes were still closed, making the sea dog chuckle lightly.

As the two men enjoyed locking lips more and more, gnawing away at each other, Tintin stepped forward and pushed his hands against Haddock's chest lightly, feeling his big, hairy torso up with his fingers, and the sailor responded accordingly. The two men moved backwards subconsciously, moving in step with each other, until the reporter had managed to back the sailor up against a wall with a soft thump.

As Haddock leaned his head back against the wooden surface, letting Tintin have his wily ways with him, the reporter nipped away at him, reminding the salty sea dog how much of a great kisser the landlubber actually was. Fully aroused, the Scotsman's rock hard bulge was throbbing away, straining against his belt and his flaky, drying black trousers again. Tintin was in a similar position, blood rushing down to his groin, causing his dick to grow to full size again, rubbing up against Haddock's member through their pants.

The Captain smirked and pulled away. "Oh, I'm going to love doing this everyday, every bit of it", he reckoned, contemplating the near future now that the two men had taken such a big, unprecedented step in their friendship. "This is yer last chance to back out, Tintin", he warned the younger lad, in case he was having second thoughts about having sex with the seaman, while Haddock ran his big, calloused hands down Tintin's lanky arms.

"Not a chance. I've had so many adventures, Captain, but none like this. This is special", Tintin retorted, holding steadfast in his decision to lose his virginity that day. While Haddock was caressing his sides, Tintin snaked his hands down to Haddock's bum and started groping his backside again, grabbing a good amount of Scottish arse in his palm and giving it a good pinch for extra measure.

The Captain chuckled huskily, even as his body vibrated pleasurably from the lad's self-indulgence and his dick rolled around inside his tight, dark pants. "You really like my arse, don't ya, boy?", he asked teasingly.

"It is a fine one", Tintin replied unashamedly. He had checked out the Captain's back muscles and his firm, hard arse in his black pants a few times in the past, when the sailor had his back turned to him, and felt like a bit of a pervert for doing so. Now there was nothing stopping him from checking it out or giving it a good, cheeky squeeze.

The Captain's wolfish, lecherous grin only grew wider in satisfaction. He was glad to learn that even as he approached middle-age at thirty-eight, he still had plenty of roguish sea dog charm, and an arse that men and women could both appreciate. Then an idea occurred to him; a pretty wild, tempting idea. "Alright then, laddie… how would you like to break it in?", Haddock proposed.

Tintin blinked and his eyebrows shot up on his forehead in surprise as he processed that. "Wait, do you mean...?", he questioned, making sure he heard right.

"Aye. We're about to fuck and make love to each other. This is yer first time, and you really seem to like grabbing my prick and my arse. I wouldn't mind letting ya do the honors, if ya want", Haddock offered, folding his arms confidently. He was perfectly willing to try out being a bottom again, for the first time in years, if Tintin was the one breeding him. Having the ginger lad on top of him, fucking him into the bed, would actually probably be pretty sexy.

Tintin breathed in and chuckled a bit under his breath, in mild disbelief, as he chewed on that offer. But once he realized the sailor was actually serious - looking at him with the same horny, playful, lighthearted expression, completely okay with whatever he chose - a small grin started to stretch across his face, as excitement grew inside the reporter's belly like a flame.

"I'd love to, Captain. But like you said, I'm a virgin, I wouldn't really know what to do", Tintin accepted, with a fair bit of worry.

The Captain tossed a strong, loving arm around him, roping the reporter in close for another rough but tender noogy, ruffling his hair. "Don't worry, laddie, it's not that hard. I'll talk ya through it", the sailor promised him reassuringly, before giving him a scruffy, bearded peck on the cheek. He was already looking forward to the lad going to town on his arse.

**((()-()))**

A few minutes later, once they had stopped kissing and pulled apart, the two men went back to stripping off their troublesome, cumbersome clothing - freeing up all the space they needed to proceed, finally letting their rigid cocks breathe freely and exposing their bare bodies to each other.

As Tintin expected, the Captain was a lot furrier than him overall. Tintin had a good amount of orange peach fuzz growing his midsection, to match his deep red hair, while the Captain had whole bush of black, wiry pubic hair surrounding his cock and balls (which the lad found quite appealing), along with plenty of dark strands of hair running down his burly, muscular arms and his long, sturdy legs. The Captain had the grin of a wolf when he was aroused, but he had the overall body of a bear, and with every passing minute, Tintin grew more and more enticed by the idea of topping the gruff, masculine man.

The two men stepped forward, eyeing each other from top to bottom, checking each other without a single bit of self-consciousness. Once they were done with that, the Captain folded his arms and let a cocky, satisfied smirk split his face, looking forward to what was coming to him - his favorite, bullheaded reporter mounting him and marking his arse. The two men couldn't resist kissing one last time, their hard, rigid cocks rubbing together in the process, for good luck before they split apart. Haddock walked over towards the king-sized bed they'd be sleeping in for the night and plopped down on his back on the mattress, getting into position while Tintin followed suit. Grinning up at the reporter, Haddock watched Tintin closely as the reporter tried to prepare - falling back on everything the Captain told him to do, and everything he already knew about gay sex.

"Now remember, laddie, everyone's a bit nervous their first time doing this. If any sailor tells ya otherwise, then they're full of shit. So there's no pressure on ya if you don't take to it right away", the Captain remarked, giving him a heads-up.

"Don't worry, Captain. This is simple, this is instinct, it shouldn't be too hard", Tintin replied steadily, confidently. "I'll make it good for you, too. You can bet your arse on that", the reporter promised.

The Captain's cock jolted, throbbing and pulsing at full size above his groin and his bare chest, standing at full attention for the redhead to see how attracted the mariner was to him. The sea dog chuckled appreciatively, hornily. "I like it when you swear, boy", he commented, knowing how out of character it was for Tintin to do so outside of the bedroom.

"I learned from the best", Tintin informed him, smiling as he took the compliment.

Tintin, unfortunately, did not have any oil or lubricant on him to slick up the man's tunnel and get him ready for a good round of sex. Since neither of the two men had expected this little tryst of passion to happen or were prepared for it, the redheaded reporter would just have to improvise. Building up a good amount of saliva in his mouth, Tintin proceeded to spit onto his palms and get his fingers nice and wet.

Stretching his tall, brawny body out on the bed, carving out a nice groove in the sheets and getting himself comfortable, Haddock swung his legs wide open, spreading out his hips, exposing his groin and his bare backside. He even reached down to pull his hairy cheeks back, to give Tintin easier access to his arsehole and a good first peek at his tunnel, his cock straining upwards all the while as they got closer and closer to the moment of truth.

Tintin sat on the edge of the bed and pulled up next to Haddock's bum, examining the little pink pucker in his arse surrounded by familiar black fuzz - he knew what he had to do, and he knew he needed to do it quickly before the spit started to dry. "Brace yourself Captain, there might be a bit of a chill at first", Tintin warned his friend, and the Scottish sailor grunted in acknowledgement.

Folding back Haddock's firm cheeks with one hand, and then pushing open the outer edges of his pucker, Tintin sucked in a deep breath and took the plunge, slipping one of his thinner fingers into the man's arsehole.

Immediately, the Scotsman stiffened in front of him and swore a bit under his breath, but he hardly seemed uncomfortable as Tintin started nervously poking around his insides - quite the opposite. After a moment, when he became accustomed to the intrusion, his startled expression settled into one of contentment and excitement, as Tintin rolled his wet finger around, slicking up soft skin and warm flesh that was rarely ever touched.

"Oh yeah, that hits the spot, lad. Keep it up", he encouraged the reporter, his accent deepening the way it always did when he was turned on, closing his eyes out of bliss, as Tintin started to venture in further and further, inching closer to his prostate. At one point, Haddock bucked his back when Tintin struck a certain spot, sending a wave of pleasure flying through his limbs, fingering him. Since Tintin's spit could only cover so much territory, the redhead found himself swapping out fingers more than once, pushing warm flesh out of his way and crooking his digits to reach a few difficult spots, swabbing around, until he was satisfied that he had gotten it all. The Scotsman was all set for the next step.

Captain Haddock looked almost disappointed when Tintin pulled out of his arse to tend to himself, his muscles going slack again. To be honest, if the lad had kept fingering him the way that he had - poking around his insides, testing his limits when the sailor's bum hadn't seen much action in years - he wouldn't have lasted much longer and he would probably have come right then and there, soaking his chest in warm semen. Part of him wouldn't have minded that outcome, the lad getting him off with just his fingers, and another, larger part of him would have found his lack of control very embarrassing, very unbecoming of a man nearing forty, so he was glad the boy had held back.

Spitting on his palms again and taking himself in hand, it didn't take Tintin long to slick up his cock, getting it nice and wet so he wouldn't hurt himself when he was diving into his best friend, stretching out his arsehole. Tintin's cock bobbed around a bit as he rubbed it all over, from the tip to the base, and after a moment - when he pulled his hands away and it stood tall and proud between the reporter and seaman - he knew he was ready. In order to line things up properly, Tintin would need to steady himself, so he grabbed hold of the Captain's strong, broad legs before him, bracing himself on his burlier friend, catching Haddock's attention. The sailor watched his every move with curious and appreciative blue eyes, as he shimmied up closer on the sheets until the gap between the reporter and the seaman was practically nonexistent.

Using one hand to fold open Haddock's cheeks once more, exposing his tight pink anus, and another one to grip his veiny, hard cock, lining it up with the hole, Tintin silently hoped for the best, while Haddock laid his head back on the bed, bracing himself for a bit of stinging.

Captain Haddock grunted and drew his thick, calloused fingers into the sheets, digging up fabric, while Tintin entered him - parting the entrance to his anus as he slipped the tip of his cock inside the Scotsman's arsehole. "Blue blistering barnacles", the burly Scot swore under his breath as Tintin stretched him out. The Captain shifted around a bit, to give the lad room to move around, and grunted again as the walls of his anus started to clamp down on Tintin's member, accepting it inside him.

While he was still adjusting to the experience of another man invading his bum, the Captain was not in any real pain or discomfort. In fact, after a minute of Tintin poking around without hurting him, he started to relax a bit, letting his arms go slack - he trusted the lad to do whatever he liked and forge his own path to his prostate. Pretty soon, with a few more bracing, approving grunts, the rugged, salty sailor started to enjoy the feeling of the lad pushing into him. Keeping his legs spread wide, Tintin filled him up to the hilt as the reporter's confidence grew, easing them both into the experience. Making sure to keep his concentration so he didn't hurt his friend, Tintin wiped a few beads of sweat off his forehead.

Tintin was about halfway in, eagerly exploring new territory, marveling at how it felt to be breeding this part of the sailor, when the Captain clamped down on his hard, stiff dick with the walls of his arse once more. This time, Haddock did it deliberately, because he enjoyed how stiff the lad's pole felt and the way his flesh bent around it, accommodating it - stimulating both men. Judging by the look on the boy's face, shuddering a bit as unexpected ecstasy rippled through him, Haddock figured he enjoyed it too. Using his hips, the Captain bucked his backside and pushed back on Tintin's dick, impaling himself on the lad's member now that he was feeling bolder. The Captain swore again, with a big grin on his face, as pleasure shot through him out of his arse - he was going to enjoy riding Tintin's cock.

Finally, after another minute, Tintin reached the end of the line. His long thin, cock stretched out Haddock's bum, filling his tunnel up to the brim, and he was right at the sailor's sweet spot.

Feeling curious, Haddock glanced up, over his sweaty, hairy chest at the boy who was currently staking out his arse and was about to fuck him into oblivion, and he whistled in approval. "Nicely done, lad. You've got the hardest part done. Now comes the fun. _Now ya get to fuck me_", he informed him, and Tintin nodded his head, agreeing with the sailor. "Get ready to pound my arse, landlubber. Drill in there and sink yer prick deep inside my bum til it's red if ya want", Haddock ordered, lowering his head again to let Tintin take the wheel.

Tintin's dick jumped up again inside the sailor's backside, already ridiculously hard, rubbing away at flesh, at that pleasant mental image. The Captain was a pretty proud, masculine man, so Tintin had never really pictured his friend as the type to bottom in bed, but the sailor was certainly embracing his position with gusto and enjoying the hell out of it. He just learned something new about the man's versatility. This whole experience was still pretty surreal, but knowing he was the one turning his older friend on and making the stout sea dog feel incredible made Tintin feel pretty damn sexy at the moment, more than he usually felt. He was enjoying the intimacy of what they were doing too, melding their bodies together, and he was ready to take it to the next level.

The reporter sucked in another deep breath, drew back a bit, and then shoved in at half-strength, slamming his dick right into the edge of Haddock's tunnel. The Captain grunted and drew in his fingers, his back bending a bit on the bed, as he reacted to Tintin striking the pleasure center of his body. He bit the edge of his lip before he chuckled heatedly. "Fuck, boy! Do that again!", he ordered, and Tintin was happy to oblige.

Tightening his grip on the sailor's hips - having a pretty good idea what the Scotsman could handle, what he would want out of him now, and what the reporter wanted to do himself - Tintin slammed into him harder, his balls slapping against the seaman's arse as he struck his prostate again. The feeling of Tintin's cock slicing through heat and flesh, speeding down the open tunnel, colliding with Haddock's sweet-spot as the mariner took him all in willingly and eagerly, all while a part of him tried to crush Tintin's dick with his arsehole, was almost indescribable. For years, Tintin had heard about how great sex was, espicially with someone you cared for deeply, how rewarding it felt, and it certainly lived up to the hype.

As Haddock vibrated and writhed around beneath him, curling up his toes and his fingers with very clear pleasure, letting his tongue hang out of his mouth, Tintin started delivering a series of rapidfire hits to his bum, pulling back and shoving forward every twenty seconds, building a good amount of momentum as he slammed into Haddock's arsehole. With every bit of positive feedback he got from the horny, sweaty sailor, the gaps between strikes got shorter and shorter, picking up the pace. After a while, he was shaking both the burly seaman and the bed they were lying on, plowing his arse for all it was worth, breeding him with his prick and hopefully building up to marking him with his seed.

Haddock was hardly passive about being fucked as well. No stranger to the whole experience, he started bucking his hips and pushing back on the lad's rock hard prick, syncing up with his movements and pushing the lad's member into him as far as he would go, egging on him in-between swears. "Blue blistering barnacles, boy, that feels great, the way you're splitting me! Keep at it! Steady on! _Harder, laddie, harder!_", he urged, his eyes clenched shut with his face drenched in sweat as he let himself feel every single sensation rushing through his body, from his head to his toes. He figured letting the boy dominate him and have his way with him for the night would be hot as hell, and he was right on the money.

Eventually, as Tintin kept striking the sailor's prostate again and again - feeling the wonderful weight and pressure from all the flesh and the muscles surrounding him, pressing down on his prick - some splendid, boiling heat started to pool inside his balls, percolating in there - which could only mean one thing.

"Captain, I think I'm getting close!", Tintin informed his friend, giving the seaman an early warning and a particularly hard thrust to the arse, giving it to good to the stout man, giving him the rough treatment they both wanted. Now that he knew the endgame was on the horizon, he was hungry for it, and his desire to work towards it had grown twice-fold.

Haddock grunted and gripped the headboard of the bed, bracing himself there as he rolled his hips and his bum with the latest bombardment. Every few seconds, the ginger-haired daredevil plowed his arse, nailing him straight down to the bed, groping him and manhandling his backside, and Haddock accepted the rough treatment with plenty of pride and vigor, enjoying every bit of it with a horny, satisfied grin resting on his face, encouraging it. Every few strikes, he would push himself back and impale himself on the lad's cock, working with him to get them both off.

"Same here, lad. Same here", the Captain remarked, letting his younger friend know he was in the same boat as him. The Captain had held out valiantly for quite some time now, showing a respectable amount of restraint over his cock and balls, but he was about ready to blow at this point - the lad had mounted him well, drilling in deep - and it wouldn't take much to make him come undone.

Tintin thrusted forward, scrunching his sweaty forehead in concentration, closing his eyes shut, shoving in as deep as he could - embracing the thick, warm, constricting heat of Haddock's fleshy channel swallowing up his cock, squeezing in on it. In front of him, Haddock drew up his limbs, digging his fingers into the sheets, his furry chest soaked in sweat. The Captain swore a blue streak, rocking himself towards his climax, towards sweet, sweet release. But he never stopped urging the lad on, accepting everything the reporter had to give him - the burn, the pleasure, the delicious friction in his backside - with open arms, enjoying every bit of it as much as the landlubber was. His cock jutted up tall and proud and harder than ever from the experience, bobbing up and down above his hairy groin as Tintin's balls slapped against his arse faster and faster, clapping his cheeks. The Scotsman laughed and groaned and purred as the Belgian took him further and further over the edge of ecstasy, eventually losing all sense of where he was.

Finally, one of them broke and found delicious, well-earned completion. Tintin cried out, tensing up where he sat, as he found relief for the second time that night. The tip of his cock opened up and warm, wet seed flew out of it, splashing out into the Captain's arsehole.

The Captain was already incredibly close to shooting himself, but the boy's manic, feverish thrusts into his bum while he made the deepest parts of his arse wetter and wetter by the second, staking his claim there, were the last bit of incentive he needed to let go. Captain Haddock grunted and moaned, his face twisting and contorting in ways the reporter had never seen before, as the Scotsman blew his load with a mighty roar that he made little to no effort to bite down. Writhing around in the damp, sweaty sheets, globs of creamy white semen shot out of his rigid dick like a geyser as Tintin filled up his arse. The boy painted his insides white, from the end of his anus to his sensitive prostate, but the sailor found he had built up plenty of semen as well. The seafaring Scotsman arched his back one last time, riding the wave of his orgasm, as he blew the content of his balls all over his chest and his crotch - matting his chest hair and his pubic bush with thick, sticky come.

Neither of the two men showed any signs of stopping any time soon, neither of them wanted to stop any time soon, so they let it all happen, let nature take its exquisite course. As the hot, heady seconds passed, they just kept shooting, vibrating and moaning all the while, rocking each other into completion as they occasionally manhandled each other and copped a good feel of each other's privates.

Eventually, it was over - the peak of their orgasms came and went. The two men let the rest of their semen drain out of their dicks; Tintin in particular let his leftover come drizzle out in Haddock's already drenched, abused, thoroughly soaked arse. The boy's spunk would be sloshing around in the sailor's channel for hours, even after he pulled out - that's how much the reporter had to give the seaman - and in truth, the Captain was quite satisfied with that thought, grumbling lowly as he shifted on the bed and his wits came about him.

The two adventurers grew still, the room started to grow quiet again as their thoughts returned to them beyond the haze of sex, and the pair of them started to process what had just happened - how incredible it all was. They could revel in the afterglow of the act, for however long it lasted. Both of them were thoroughly spent at the moment: nearly all of Tintin's strength left his muscles after all the energy he had just spent pounding Haddock's bum into oblivion, and the redhead needed to decide what he was going to do next, now that he had time to cool down.

After a moment, the tired, satiated reporter repositioned himself and laid down on top of Captain Haddock, chest to chest, a bit of the sailor's come squishing between them as their skin made contact. The burly sailor didn't mind in the slightest though - he was just a bit surprised by Tintin's choice, but after a few seconds, he wrapped his big, strong, welcoming arms around the lad and embraced him on top of him. Tintin breathed outward, letting his limbs relax, and nuzzled his head into Haddock's chest, resting it beneath his chin.

"That was amazing, Captain", Tintin breathed out, smiling widely as he shared his feelings with the man.

"It always is, laddie. It always is", the Captain promised him, assuming there would be plenty more nights like this one to come in the near future, now that their feelings for one another had left the docks. He was also glad to see the Belgian reporter had had as much fun as he did. "Yer not in any hurry to pull out yet, boy?", he questioned curiously, his deep Scottish brogue rumbling in his throat, rougher than usual from the sex he just had.

"Not really, no. I like it like this, inside of you", Tintin admitted, his member pulsing again, even as it gradually started to soften inside the sailor's arsehole. He would pull out eventually, once he was fully soft and he had his strength back, but for now, he just wanted to remain like this - spooning with the burly sailor, resting up with the man he loved, fully connected to him as he enjoyed the warmth and pressure of the seaman's arse around his cock.

Haddock chuckled and kissed the top of his forehead. "Good, lad. Carry on then", he replied, fully onboard with the idea of keeping the lad's prick, and by extension the boy's spunk, inside him for a little while longer. They had earned this moment of intimacy and ecstasy through a lot of hard work and dedication, and the Scotsman wanted to savor it. After a moment, he reached his big hand down Tintin's back to give him a nice appreciative pat on his round bum, which amused the laddie, making him chuckle against his chest.

"You did a fine job of breeding my arse and breaking it in, Tintin, getting it nice and wet and slick. I look forward to returning the favor next time", Haddock rumbled, making the boy a promise, and Tintin felt a little tingle of excitement fly down his back at the thought of the Captain mounting him, plowing his backside. "And you know... there's no way the other people in this hotel didn't hear us", the Captain remarked coyly and casually, teasing the more bashful and reserved side of his reporter friend.

Tintin had considered that as well, when they were right at the peak of their love-making, crying out with reckless abandon. "I'll feel embarrassed about it in the morning", he resolved with a little yawn, settling down on his friend's brawny torso.

The Captain snorted, amused, but nonetheless tightened his grip around Tintin's waist, securing his younger beau, and laid back on his pillow, settling in to relax himself. As the Belgian landlubber sprawled out on top of his chest hung his arms over the Captain's sides, resting his weary bones after a long, adventurous day, Haddock decided to hum to himself contentedly - a quiet, hearty tune rumbling in the base of his throat - partly to entertain himself as he let his mind wander freely, and partly to help his younger friend get comfortable and find some peace.

After a minute, Tintin recognized the melody of the Captain's sea shanty as "The Drunken Sailor", a rather cheeky and appropriate choice that was no doubt deliberate on the Captain's part. The reporter smiled to himself, nuzzling the seaman's neck again to show his love and affection for his burlier friend, before he closed his eyes, let his mind drift away, and enjoyed the sailor's rusty, earthy music: a little piece of home that the mariner brought with him everywhere..

Whether it was a few weeks or a few months away, it would only be a matter of time before the courageous duo set sail on another adventure to crack another case and help more people. But for now, as they got ready to head back to the comfort and familiarity of their home in Marlinspike, there were so many new possibilities and so many new things to explore between the two of them, and Tintin couldn't wait to uncover them all.

The End.

_**Author's Notes:**_

Well, this story was a lot of fun to write. Tintin and Captain Haddock make up my OTP, and I've written about them before, in "Dusk", but I've always wanted to devote a longer story to their dynamic, and now I have, letting their personalities play off each other for this entire one-shot. Feel free to leave a review, if you like.


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